Tag Archives: top surgery revision

My Top Surgery Revision



At 9 AM I hopped into a taxi with my friend Tracey, and we zig zagged through midtown traffic to Dr. Weiss’ office. He and I talked about the pucker in the front of my chest and the size of my nipples. I apologized for being a fussbudget. He reassured me. Lots of people want their nipples redone.

I stayed vaguely awake during surgery. I kept my eyes closed, but I could feel where he was working. Whenever I winced he gave me another shot of local anesthesia. It was over in less that an hour. He dressed my wounds with three 3×3 inch gauze pads and some tape. He told me to refrain from showering for 24 hours, to change the dressing daily, and to take it easy for a couple of days. Come back in two weeks; call if there is any discharge or anything unusual. I had a little trouble buttoning my shirt and tying my sneakers. Although I am a veteran of several surgeries, I forgot to wear slip-ons. I also left the after care instructions in his office.

I was home by noon. The pain meds wore off at 4 PM. I took a Tramadol that was left over from my last surgery, then a few hours later I took another. Continue reading

An Avalanche of Shame

Train-blocked-by-snowTomorrow I’m going in for a revision to my chest. I’m having a small pucker in my left pec “let out”, and I’m having my nipples slightly down-sized in diameter and height. I’m still a little ambivalent about it.

I like my chest. I ignore the flaws, but I’m still a little self-conscious of my nipples. I’m aware of them when I’m working out in the gym, when my T-shirt is sweat soaked, when I’m watching my form in the mirror. I could live with them as is. If I had to fly to another city for the revision, I might not do it.

The surgery is straightforward. It is in Dr. Weiss’ office, not in the hospital. He is using twilight sedation instead of anaesthesia. I should be in and out in an hour and a half. I should be back to my usual activities by the weekend.

The surgery is the easy part. Asking a friend to take me there, wait for me, and take me home is the grueling part. I procrastinated asking, and then belittled myself for being unable to ask. It is a hard cycle to break.

I’m not ashamed of being butch and trans. I’m ashamed of being butch and trans and needing help. Somewhere, in the back of my brain, I don’t think it is OK to ask people for help if it has anything to do with being trans. Continue reading